The Roquefort Files

Travels to the pub and back

August 28th, 2006

Under the weather:

your host has been a walking catarrh factory for the past five days or so, and the whirlwind of exciting, edifying and educational events that normally find their way to the pages of the RF had to be pared down only to essential drinking activities. Fortunately the week abounded with such opportunities, challenging me in […]

August 22nd, 2006


At the wedding, I made the hilarious comment that Dave was off to “drain his snake on a plane” in the toilets. Ze Frank has beaten me to it. Bastard.

I have rediscovered my drinking mojo.

Dave, Martin and I drove down* to Wetherby on Friday evening through torrential rain that recalled the Journey Into Terror from last year’s road trip. Just north of Newcastle the rain eased off a bit and we stopped briefly to, as Dave put it, “snack my bitch up”. It became apparent later, once we were […]

August 14th, 2006

The sleeping giant of Coba Fynn

at last nears the end of its slumber, and in the antediluvian recesses of its mind, a multi-faceted thought is given sonorous voice. That voice declares to all those irresponsible enough to listen: “Light her up / cheeseburgers / whisk(e)y!” in the sort of accent that Tom Baker might possess if the Tardis has stopped […]

August 7th, 2006

Enter the festival

and hope that it does not enter you. I’m already bored of this year’s festivities. Trying to get my bike up to Ash’s flat on the Royal Mile – it would’ve been far easier with a tazer or a cattle prod – the prevalence of performers as opposed to festival goers seemed pretty plain. Maybe […]